


Kicking the Hornet's Nest

by monroesherlock



Series: Tumblr Junk [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, And Stiles is sassy, Angry Sex, BAMF Stiles, Chris is an FBI Agent, Interrogation, Jealous Derek, M/M, Make up sex, Motorcycles, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Derek, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:10:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monroesherlock/pseuds/monroesherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's well known that in the small town of Beacon Hills, Derek Hale's Wolf Pack, a rather irritating motorcycle club, runs things.<br/>A story in which, Chris is an overworked FBI agent, Danny directs porn, Parrish is increasingly amused, and Stiles tries to balance being the Sheriff's dutiful son as well as the boyfriend of a violent criminal.<br/>He's not doing a very good job.</p><p>Sons of Anarchy inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna start posting my tumblr prompts and ficlets here!

Stiles pops his gum loudly, leveling the cop with a withering glare.

"You know, my dad was a cop. Still is, I think. The whole sit and wait technique never worked much for him either. I’m too much of a busybody." He smirks.

"A cop with you for a kid? He must be so proud. Remember Mr. Stilinski, any time you want a lawyer, you're more than welcome to ask for one. It is your right after all." The agent tells him. "I mean, I've got a pretty thick file on you and your friends here. You guys could be going down for a very long time. Might take a few civilians with you. I’d be just a little bit more on the cautious side if I were you."

"Nah, my lawyer’s a real son of a bitch. Charges a shit ton of cash by the hour and regardless of what you think, I don’t have that kind of money. I won't call her in until I'm sure I'm in dire straits which at this point, I'm not so sure I am." Stiles leans back in his chair and kicks his feet up onto the metal interrogation table in front of him.

"Really? That's not quite how I see it." The agent grits out.

"If there was anything in that folder of yours, you would've pulled more than just me in here. Hell, you would've gone after Derek. However, seeing as we're sitting here together, just the two of us, and all you can charge me with is possession, which really man, that wasn't mine, I figure you and I actually don't have that much to talk about."

Chris Argent pinches the bridge of his nose. It's been a long time since he's dealt with a suspect this mouthy. To be honest, the word suspect is a little too optimistic in this case anyway. It's well known that in the small town of Beacon Hills, Derek Hale's Wolf Pack, a rather irritating motorcycle club, runs things. There was nothing the Sheriff’s Department could do about them and if Chris' intel was right, the Sheriff himself was this one's father! He's glad his girl has kept her head on straight as long as she has.

Stiles pops his gum out of his mouth and presses it to the underside of the table.

"Listen Agent Agent, that's a nice piece of alliteration don't you think? Agent Argent, the truth of the matter is, you've got shit. I doubt you'll be able to prove that gun was even mine. And if I'm a part of this illustrious motorcycle gang as you say which, do I look like I could be part of a gang, wouldn't I have my own motorcycle?"

"Nah, my source says you'd rather ride bitch for Derek Hale." Chris spits angrily. Stiles doesn't even flinch.

"What can I say? I like having my thighs wrapped around something firm. If that's a crime, go ahead and lock me up officer because that's not gonna change. Didn’t you hear that Macklemore song?” He grins wryly. “Why are we wasting each other’s time? In a few hours, I’ll be on the back of that bike on my way home and you’ll still be here with jack shit to report to the big boss. It’s the way things are.”

“Yeah well, I think it’s time to shake things up around here. I hope that’s alright with you.” Chris gets to his feet. “I’m not gonna stop.”

Stiles just shakes his head. “You gotta daughter right? About my age?” He asks. “You said yourself, these kinds of things have a tendency to get real messy real quick. Ask yourself, is this stupid little town worth your soul?”

“How the hell-How do you know about my daughter!?”

Stiles grins. “I know all about you Chris. I know what really happened to your wife.” He sends the older man a wink. “Beacon Hills brings out everyone’s dirty secrets. You want us, you’ll have to come into the filth with us. I’ll ask again. Is it worth it?”

Chris honestly doesn’t know.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles perks up at the loud sound of an engine revving. “Looks like my ride is here. I hope that’s okay _Special Agent Argent_. Is it okay if I go out and meet him? I’d hate for him to have to come all the way inside.” He chuckles dryly. “And there’s Deputy Good Body with the keys out of here! I tell you Jordan, you’re in the wrong business. You could’ve made a killing in the biz with a face like that. I know some boys who’d pay a pretty penny for a night with you.”

“You know, strangely enough, I don’t find the idea of being passed around by a bunch of sweaty men in a dirty club all that appealing.” Parrish gestures to the door. “Time for you to go. The quicker I get you out of here, the quicker things can go back to normal.”

“We’re not finished here, Deputy. I still have some questions to ask.” Chris reminds him.

“Plenty of questions and no reason to hold him. Strangely enough, someone just came forward and claimed the gun. Apparently, it was put into Stiles bag without his knowledge. He’s free to go.” Parrish just looks tired, like this has all happened too many times and he’s given up.

“That’s what I told him. What use would I have with a gun?” Stiles smirk only gets wider. “Escort me outside, Jordan. I wouldn’t want to get into any mischief on on my way. It was nice meeting you, Fed.” Stiles gives him the finger and blows him a kiss.

Chris wants to punch him in the face.

\---

Hale’s waiting outside, black helmet and dark sunglasses still on, his arms crossed as he leans against his bike. It’s a beautiful thing, all shiny silver and black. Chris watches Stiles run to meet him, watches him throw his arms around the older man’s neck and drag him into a soul stealing kiss. Derek smacks his ass and laughs before handing him a helmet. Within a few seconds Chris hears the distinct sound of the engine cutting on, Stiles has his arms wrapped around Derek’s waist, and their driving off.

“Look, I know you’re going to keep chasing after them.” Chris turns to see Parrish watching him. “And I understand the appeal. Taking the down could make your career. However,” Parrish levels him with a serious look, all traces of boyishness gone, “if you want to take on the Pack, you better expect bodies to start dropping. Derek Hale isn’t going to go down quietly. You mess with his people and he’ll destroy you. I’m surprised he he hasn’t retaliated for you bringing Stiles in here yet.”

“I don’t expect him to. Besides, I don’t just want Hale. All of them deserve to be locked up for good for the crimes they’ve committed. I know this town thinks they’re doing good, that they should turn their heads to the bad if it means being a little bit safer. You know it’s wrong. I know it’s wrong. I will put a stop to it..” Chris gathers up his things, his coffee mug and his files. Parrish just laughs easy and free.

“Whatever you say. Don’t know how you’re gonna get back to your hotel though. We have a shitty cab service here.”

“Why would I need a cab? I have a rental.” Chris deadpanned.

“Didn’t anyone tell you? Someone slashed your tires. Shot out the security cameras first so, it’s a mystery who did it. Welcome to Beacon Hills, Chris. I hope you enjoy your stay.” Parrish sends him a mock salute and goes on his way, whistling all the while.

\---

“So what’d he ask you?” Stiles looks up. He’s sitting on Derek’s lap trying (and failing) to light a cigarette.

“Give me that.” Derek takes the lighter from him and flicks the lighter on. Stiles is blowing smoke rings in seconds.

“You ask me something Jackson?” He asks once he was comfortable.

“I asked why they wanted to talk to you. Is there anything we should be concerned about?” They’re all looking up now, drinks abandoned. Stiles lets out a put-upon sigh.

“I just wanted to fucking relax with my guy and now I’m being interrogated all over again.” He takes another drag. “Not much to report. Just some new hotshot agent with something to prove. Give him enough of a headache and he’ll be on his way.  It’d be a shame though, he was cute in a DILF sort of way. I wanted to give him Danny’s card. Bet he'd be pretty with cum on his face.” Derek pinches his thigh and Stiles swats at his shoulder playfully. “You know you’re my favorite.”

“I doubt an FBI agent would want to go into gay porn no matter how good Danny's stuff is.” Isaac snorts. “Unless the pay was really good.”

“I’m sure Danny pays well. He’s nice to the talent.” Stiles starts playing with Derek’s hair, pulling gently on the longer strands. “Seemed like he wanted to stick around for a while though so it might be good to keep any illegal crap on the the down low for a few weeks. I wouldn’t make any sales right now, babe.”

“Yeah I know. That’s gonna cut into our business for the month though. Boyd, call up north and tell them we’re gonna have to go dark for a while. I don’t want there to be any surprises.”

They all clear out of the club slowly. Stiles grabs two beers and tosses one to Derek.

“You wanna tell me what you really think? You know I can tell when you’re bullshitting everyone” Derek pops the cap and takes a swig.

Stiles groans. “We may have a _real_ problem. He’s gonna be a fucking bulldog, I can tell. He reminded me of my dad and well, you remember how that turned out.”

“Then we put the fear of god in him. He’s got a kid right?”

“From what I hear, she’s tough as nails too. They won’t be easy to warn off. Don’t give me that face babe.” Stiles presses soft kisses to the hollow of his throat and trails his fingers down his chest. “C’mon...why be sad when you could be drilling me into that table instead. That’s more fun than brooding right? I could make it more fun.”

“What about your FBI agent?” Derek chuckles.

“He was kind of a babe. I’m not sure how I feel about a full beard though.” He cups Derek’s chin. “The scruff is enough for me.”

Derek kisses him quiet, tangling his fingers in Stiles’ dark hair. “Fuck, Der…” Stiles gasps.

“You two couldn’t even wait for me to go home? I’m on clean up tonight.” That’s Isaac. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s caught them getting up to no good in the club.

“Fuck off, Isaac.”

“No way, I gotta get this place clean for tomorrow. Go home. That’s what you have a home for. Go get freaky somewhere else. Seriously.” Isaac starts sweeping, paying them no mind.

Stiles reluctantly pulls away and tugs at Derek's hand. "C'mon, take me home, babe." He says.

And like always, Derek follows. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris tries a new tactic. This one just might work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was never meant to go this way. I just kept writing and well, this happened. I mapped the rest of the story out though (might take awhile because I have a Big Bang to write) so I have a plan at least.  
> Enjoy the angst.   
> Chapter warning:  
> Consensual infidelity

Stiles is at home making himself breakfast when he gets the call.  Apparently, Kira’s gone into labor and just their luck, the others are on a run miles away. He knows better than to call Derek when he’s dealing with Deucalion.    

“I could probably drive myself but I’d rather not risk it. What if a contraction hits? you don't mind taking me, do you?” And it’s not like he can say no to that. The kid’s practically gonna be his nephew.

“I’m coming to get you. Please don’t have the kid on the floor or Scott will flip his shit when he gets back.” He tosses his cigarette in the ashtray on his kitchen table and dials Danny.

“Meet me at the hospital. Kira’s having her baby.”

“I’m at the prison.” Danny replies currently. “Currently, this pervert of a guard wants to strip search me.”

“Punch him in the balls.” Stiles offers sagely. He packs as he packs an overnight bag. Might as well be ready to stay up with the soon to be mother until Scott gets back.

“No way. I wouldn’t look good in prison orange.” Danny groans. “Can I go in or not? I don’t have all fucking day. One of my friends is in labor. I’d like to get in, sing happy birthday, and leave.” He hears Danny yelling he guesses at the guards.

“Oh right. Today is Ethan’s birthday isn’t it? See if you can sneak him a handjob under the table.” He has to smirk at his own humor? What? He’s fucking funny okay?

“Fuck you, Stiles. He isn’t getting out for another six months. The waiting’s been murder.”

“Which is what he should be in for. Be glad Isaac’s really good at getting stains out of carpet.”

“You know what? Screw yourself. Give Kira and the baby my love. I’ll be there after I’m done here. Maybe I’ll finally talk myself out of being in love with a convicted felon.”

“Fat chance.” Stiles hangs up the phone shortly after, grabs his bag, and heads to his car. Strangely enough he’s not surprised to see who’s waiting for him.

“The fuck do you want, Jordan?” The Sheriff's  Deputy is leaning up against his car, that ever familiar smirk on his face. “You here to arrest me again?”

“Nah. Warn you.”

“And what’s this warning gonna cost me this time?” Stiles levels him with a glare. Jordan never did something for nothing. Then again, with their particular history, maybe he was feeling nostalgic.

“It’s in all our best interests.  Agent Argent’s going up to the prison today. Wants to talk to Ethan.”

“So. Ethan’s not a rat. He won’t say anything.”

“He will with what Argent’s gonna offer him. Something about his brother. He’s not gonna turn anything that has to do with Aiden down.” Jordan looks at him pointedly. “We all have our weaknesses.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. No way. He won’t crack. Ethan knows Derek would kill him and Aiden if he even thought out turning on the Pack.”

“And if they’re in Wit Pro? What then? You understand my concerns. I’m in this too.”

“Fuck you. Always looking out for yourself.” Stiles is already dialing Danny’s number. He has to get to Ethan before Argent does. "C'mon Danny. Let go of Ethan's dick and answer the-Danny! Look, you gotta talk to Ethan-"

"Talk to Ethan about what? Something untoward I hope." Fucking Argent.

"How in the hell did you get Danny’s phone?" Stiles snarls.

"I took it when I arrested him on drug charges."

"Shut the fuck up. Danny doesn't mess around with that shit. You're just making shit up now." Stiles says as he tries to get into his car.

"Mr Stilinski!" Stiles pulls the phone away from his ear to see two men clad in grey suits coming his way.

"The fuck did you do?" He shouts at Argent.

Chris laughs darkly and says, "I got you, bitch."

The agents grab his arms and before he knows it, he’s in handcuffs.. "No wait! I gotta pick up Kira! She's in labour and I have to go get her!"

"Don't worry about it. We've got a car going to grab her too. You all get to go downtown together."

\----

"Well, the young man you hit in the face with a skateboard two months ago has decided to press charges after all. I can understand why he’d want to. You did break his nose. Isn't that fortuitous? Now you can always cut a deal-"

"I'm not a rat. I’m not turning anyone in to save my own skin." Stiles spits. He’s right back where he started only this time, he’s in handcuffs. When he finds that kid….

"You know, I think it’s strange that you show him so much loyalty. Derek, I mean. I guess understand though. I just wish he paid you the same courtesy." Argent’s smug little smile never drops. "You think he would after a these years you've spent together." He opens the file and pulls out a single photograph. It's Derek and some woman he's never seen before. His arm is wrapped around her and Stiles has no doubts as to what's gone on or is about to happen.

He shoves the photo away.

"What happens on a run stays on a run. We have a deal. Am I supposed to break down in tears and turn from my sinful ways? No. Screw you." Stiles says through gritted teeth.

"And that's why you slammed a skateboard into Mr. Dunbar's face and left him bleeding in the street? Was that part of your deal?"

"Just because I'm okay with it doesn't mean I want it in my face. They know to stay in their territory and we stay in ours. Dubar broke the rules so he got his ass kicked. And I didn’t leave him bleeding. Danny gave him a tissue. Besides, it's not like we're married or anything."

"You're not are you? You know, that doesn't make any sense to me. You take care of him, bear his secrets, his guilt like it's your own and for what? So he can fuck around on you whenever he damn well feels like it? I wonder what would happen if you did the same?" Argent pulls out a box of cigarettes.

“Want one? You’re leg’s tapping.” Stiles looks down and sure enough, he’s twitching.

“No.” He looks down at his cuffed wrists. Chris waves him off.

“C’mon Stiles, you’re a smart kid. You have to know how this is going to play out.”

Stiles looks him right in the eye and makes his decision. "You can't make me turn on him. You won't."

Chris just laughs. "And that right there? That's a damn shame."

\----

"I got you out on bail didn't I? Why are you still pissed at me? I didn’t think he’d fucking turn you into the cops! Scott’s working on getting the charges dropped." He’d been in jail for around ten hours when Derek finally came to get him.

"Way to go Derek. You got me out on bail after you finished banging some bitch up north. And your little twink from before was the reason I was anyway. I mean what the fuck, Derek? Can't you even go a fucking day without sticking your dick in something?"

Derek looks stricken. "How the fuck do you even know about that?”

"He had pictures. The FBI’s been all over your ass. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that was? Danny and I are up here covering your ass in a fucking jail cell, Kira’s giving birth to this damn baby with handcuffs on, and where we're you? Where were any of you? I’m getting sick of it, Derek. Sick of it." They step outside. Derek tentatively hands Stiles his helmet, testing the waters.

"You didn't used to care about any of this? What's the problem? You knew what I was the first day you got on the back of that bike! You said you were okay with this! I asked you! Don’t pretend like this is new! Like this is my fault!"

"You know, when we got together I was seventeen years old and stupid and my dad was never around and I was desperate for someone to take care of me for a change. I fooled myself into thinking that as long as it was me you came home to, I didn't care. We'll guess what? I fucking care! You were supposed to be mine! I’m supposed to mean something to you! I’ve been waiting you for eight years, Derek and I’m getting sick of waiting."

“What-What are you even talking about? I literally have no idea why you’re upset! You want me to stop sleeping around? I’ll stop sleeping around! There! We’re done!”

Stiles just shakes his head. “Yeah. You’re right. We are. Screw you, Derek.” He throws the helmet into the bushes and turns to walk away.

“Wait! What the fuck-Stiles! Where are you going?!”

“Fuck off!” Stiles halfway up the street when a shiny black car pulls in front of him.

“Need a ride?” It’s Chris Argent, a knowing smile on his face. Stiles gives him the finger but crawls into the passenger seat anyway.

“I bet you get off on this don’t you? Fucking with my life.” He gripes.

“You’re young and you’re smart. I met your dad and he’s a good man so I’m lead to believe, you must have some good in you too. I keep hoping you’ll make the right decision.” Chris admits.

Stiles just keeps looking out the window. “Well obviously you didn’t talk to him long or he would’ve told you that I’m really good at disappointing people.” They don’t speak again for the rest of the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/) Hit me up for story updates, my other works, my shody art work, and tons of feels!


	4. Chapter 4

 

Derek does the smart thing and stays away from the house for a few days. Stiles doesn’t know where he’s crashing (he doesn’t want to know) but apparently he sent someone to talk to that kid from before because the charges have been dropped. Danny’s out on bail (he’s fucking rich) and he’s drowning his sorrows in his new film. It’s something about dropped soap and a police baton and Stiles kinda wants to buy it. Not because he has a new interest in law enforcement or anything.

Derek calls him on the fifth day. Stiles doesn’t answer. Chris calls him on the sixth day, offers to talk. Stiles hangs up on him.

“Put some clothes on. We’re going to lunch.” Parrish shows up on the tenth day, arms crossed and uniform on.

“What?”

“Lunch. Go get it dressed. I’m taking you out for lunch. You’ve been wallowing.” Parrish shrugs. "You talked to Derek since your break up?”

“No. I don’t know if we even broke up or if we’re just fighting more than usual.” Stiles rubs his face. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“You’d push on like you always do.” Parrish supplies. “You’re strong. Always have been.” He sighs. “Look Stiles,”

Stiles puts up a hand to stop him before he starts up. “Don’t. I’m over it okay? Really. I’m not in the mood.”

“No listen, I had no right to just walk away from you like that.”

“You wanted a career. I understood.” Stiles says curtly, trying to stop this conversation before it starts.

“You never answered my calls.”

“I said I understood. Didn’t say I wasn’t pissed. I wanted to marry you.” He can feel the bitterness resurging all over again, wants to hit Parrish square in the jaw for his betrayal.

“You were seventeen. You were in high school. I had just gotten into school, it wouldn’t have worked.” Jordan says regretfully, his shoulders slumped.

“And yet you asked me to marry you and then I said yes and then you left me. You know, just talking about it, I’m pissed all over again. Get off my porch you asshole.”

“Stiles-”

“I mean it, Jordan. Get lost before I call Derek to come and kick your ass. He’d do it if I asked.” Jordan shakes his head.

“If I’d know that you would have fallen in with him when I left, I wouldn’t have gone. Or I would’ve taken you with me.” He says quietly, a soft sorrow in his voice.

“Goodbye, Jordan.” Stiles slams the door in his face.

\----

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended sitting across from Chris Argent in a dusty bar but here he is, nursing a beer and laughing at something the agent said. He’s actually funny when he pulls that stick out of his ass. Hanging out with Jordan had felt too much like cheating (which doesn’t exactly make sense because he and Derek aren’t on speaking terms right now) but Chris has an ease about him.

“You know, there’s something I don’t understand about you.” Chris sets his bottle down.

“I’m sort of an enigma. It’s okay.” Stiles laughs. Chris eyes him speculatively.

“You’re smart, charismatic, obviously educated. How in the world did you end up with someone like _Derek Hale_?”

“Ha! That was...that was a different time.” Stiles sighs. “I was a different person. Vulnerable.”

“Deputy Parrish. I heard around the station what happened between you two.” Chris takes a sip of his drink.

“God, people are still talking about that? Did they mention that my dad doesn’t talk to me unless someone has died?”

“I believe that came up as well.” Chris admits. “He doesn’t seem too happy about your illicit activities.”

“ _Alleged_.” Stiles reminds him. “That why you invited me out? Loosen my lips with alcohol and then arrest me?”

“For some strange reason, I like you and I didn’t like seeing you sad. I felt bad that I put you in that place.”

“So you bought me drinks to make it up to me? A man after my own heart. I _almost_ don’t want to kill you any more.”  

“What would you rather do instead?”

Stiles pauses, the bottle just a few centimeters from his mouth. “Why Agent Argent, this is quickly becoming a conflict of interests, don’t you think?” He smirks. “If I’m judging that look in your eye correctly, that is.”

“And how exactly am I looking at you?”

Stiles chuckles darkly, “like you want to _eat me_.”

\----

Stiles isn’t sure how he ends up half naked in bed with his thighs wrapped around Chris Argent. Isn’t sure how he ended up on his hands and knees with Chris slamming into him, precome dripping onto the mattress beneath them. Isn’t sure how he ended up coming untouched, his body shuddering under the onslaught. Isn’t sure how he ended up falling asleep in his (and Derek’s) bed sated and covered in come.

When he wakes, he’s not surprised to see that Chris is gone.

He is surprised however, to see Derek smoking a cigar in the doorway, a knowing frown on his face.

“Are you done pouting now that you’ve fucked someone else?” he growls.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Stiles snaps at him. He’s too tired for this shit.

“Maybe because this is my fucking house?” Derek shouts, anger radiating off of him in waves. “In my bed, Stiles? My fucking bed? What the _fuck_?”

“Fuck you, Derek. Don’t be a hypocrite. You wanted to fuck someone random, I did the same thing. Screw off.” Stiles curls back into his pillows and closes his eyes.

“You brought as stranger into _my_ house. Fucked him in _my_ bed. This isn’t the same thing, Stiles!”

“The hell it isn’t! You don’t get to come in here and judge me!” Stiles chucks the pillow at him as hard as he can. “You don’t get to make me feel like shit! I take that from everyone else, I won’t take that from you!”

“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually!"

“Really? Because I don’t think I have to. I’m just gonna stay over here, ignoring you.” Stiles resists the urge to stick his tongue out.

“Look, how many different ways can I say I’m sorry? If I’d known you would be this upset, I wouldn’t have done it. You know that.” Derek says. "You're the only person I trust, Stiles. The only goddamn person. I have enough shit going on right now, having you pissed at me too is enough to drive me crazy!"

“Then you should have thought that before you nailed some random whore! I matter! Okay?! I matter! You don’t get to treat me like shit, Derek and expect me to put up with it! I want better. I deserve better.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Marry you?!”

Stiles stops still, a hot flush rushing to his cheeks.

“Wait-what?” Derek looks bewildered, like he honestly hadn’t expected this.

“I wear your jacket. Marked myself as _yours_ , Derek. Did you think I’d be your biker bitch forever?” Stiles cursed the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. “Think I’d want to be this forever?”

“Stiles-”

“Get out. Just get the fuck out! I’ll start moving my shit out!”

“No. No, you’re not leaving. Not like this.” Derek blocks his way out, grabs his arms and pulls him in for a brutal kiss. It’s more teeth than anything, the tang of blood sharp between them. “I fucking love you, Stiles. I’ve always loved you.” Derek lifts him up, Stiles’ legs wrapping around his waist on instinct.

“Derek wait-”

He feels his back hit the wall, hears a picture frame crash to the floor. Derek attacks his neck with bites and kisses, growls into his ear. It has the same effect it always does: Stiles melts against him, a low moan bubbling up from his chest.

“Did he do this to you? Get you hot like this.” Derek squeezes his ass, rubs his denim clad cock against the thin fabric of Stiles’ boxers. “Did he fuck you like I fuck you? Leave you screaming?”

“Shit, Derek. Fuck!” Stiles cries out.

“Answer me! Tell me if he fucked you the way I do!” Derek growls. He grinds their cocks together hard, rocks Stiles against him like he’s weightless.

“No! No one does!”

“Exactly. No one takes care of you the way I do. No one loves you the way I do.” Derek bites down hard on the juncture of his neck, marks him. Stiles keens against him, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

“Goddamn! If you’re gonna fuck me, fuck me!” He shouts, scratches angry marks into the exposed skin of Derek’s neck.

“No. Not when I can smell him on you. No, you’re gonna come just like this. Did you let him come in you? No fucking condom?”

“Yeah and he was fucking good at it for an old man!” Stiles snarls. “Told me that in between my thighs tasted like peaches and cream, ate me out for hours-”

Derek tosses him onto the bed like a ragdoll, strips off his jacket with speed Stiles has never seen before.

“Had a beard, Derek. Scratched my thighs so good-” Derek yanks his boxers down, licks his hand, and grabs Stiles’ cock. “What are you gonna do, Derek? Gonna try to make me forget him? I don’t know, might be hard. I might go by the police station-” Stiles yelps when a lubed finger rams into him, writhes when it crooks.

“Sure. You go ahead and see him but when you do, you’re gonna be drenched in my come, in me. Let him know who you fucking belong to, who you’ve always belonged to.”

“Derek! Derek, fuck!”

Derek wriggles another finger into him, pumps them in and out before scissoring them, stretching Stiles’ hole. Stiles grabs at the sheets, the headboard, anything to anchor him.

“Making a fucking mess all over yourself,” Derek swipes his fingers through the precome pooling on Stiles’ belly and brings it to his lips. “Peaches and cream, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Stiles moans when Derek adds a third finger, groans when they rub up against that sweet spot inside him. “Der-God!”

“Want me to fuck you, baby? Want me to wreck you?”

“I hate you!”

“Really because _this_ is saying differently.” Derek gives his cock a quick tug, works him up and down. He throws Stiles’ leg over his shoulder, positions himself, and rams inside. They’ve never been gentle in their lovemaking, always clashed like thunder and lighting, their bodies rocking together in a carnal dance.

Derek pounds into him, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and frantic pants echoing around them.

“Der-Derek oh my god...harder Der. Fuck me like you mean it!”

“You’re such a shit.” Derek grunts, but there’s no heat in it.

“You love it.” Stiles snaps back. “Shit, Der, I’m gonna-fuck!” His climax washes over him, rocks him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Derek fucks him though it, his thrusts losing coordination before he shudders into his orgasm, his come spilling into Stiles’ tight heat.

“Shit, I hate when you do that.” Stiles groans. “Did you even take your fucking pants off?”

“Didn’t have the time.” Derek rolls off of him, and lays next to him in bed. “You really wanna get married?”

“Not now, Derek. That’s your orgasm talking.” Stiles replies drowsily. “Just fucking cuddle me and we can talk later.”

He hears Derek sighs, feels Derek pull him close and wrap his arms around his waist.

Stiles is already half asleep when he hears Derek whisper, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He thinks they might just be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Tell me if you liked it! My first time writing smut so I hope it wasn't too bad. You're always welcome on my tumblr!


	5. Chapter 5

“You fucked hot FBI guy? Stiles, why?” Danny shakes his head and groans. “And you didn’t even call me. I mean, if you’re going to make bad decisions, the least you could do is invite me along to have some fun.”

“It didn’t feel like that big of a deal at the time. I was pissed at Derek and he was there.” Stiles shrugs like it's nothing.

“If we all used that excuse, no one would have  a happy relationship, like, ever.” Danny takes a sip of his coffee. They’re at the local coffee shop, just a few blocks from the club, sitting outside and enjoying the rare sunlight. “So, on a scale of one to seething, how pissed was Derek?"

“Pissed enough to finally talk about marriage.” Stiles quirks an eyebrow. “Which I’m a little concerned about at this point.”

“You want to though, right? Marry him? Lord knows why.”

“You wanted to marry Ethan.”

Danny sighs heavily. “Yeah, when I was broke and a trying to become porn star and my family disowned me. He also wasn’t in prison so, there’s that. Incarceration kinda kills the thrill of being in love.”

Stiles just keeps shaking his head. “And now? You’re suddenly not in love with him anymore? Just like that?”

“Something’s different about him. I can’t put my finger on it but something’s not right. He barely looked at me the last time I was there and that’s too long of a fucking drive to be ignored.” Danny sighs again, crosses his arms, and leans on the table. “I just think it’s time for something new.”

“There are plenty available guys in the club. Unless you want to leave us, that is.” Stiles teases.

“We’re not all queen of the beehive, Stiles. If you actually marry Derek, you’ll be practically untouchable. Hell, half the gangs on the west coast are already afraid of you. And with what you did to that Liam kid-”

“Little slut had it coming.” Stiles snaps.

Danny levels him with a knowing look. “He was here to talk to Scott, not to Derek. You didn’t have to hit him.”

“He pissed me off. When I get pissed off, I hit people. It’s in my nature. You shouldn’t expect me to change. We have phones for a fucking reason. Besides, don’t pretend Kira wouldn’t have beaten his ass, pregnant or not.” Stiles crumples his cup and tosses it into the garbage. He’s turning back to say something else when he sees Chris come out of the coffee shop, black suit immaculate as ever.

“Mr. Mahealani, Mr. Stilinski, nice to see you boys behaving. No mischief planned, I hope.” He pulls off his black sunglasses and smirks at them.

“Fuck you.” Danny spits angrily, all his previous cheer gone. “You assholes are paying for the damage you did to my studio. I mean it, I’ll fucking sue.”

“He will. Porn producers have killer legal teams.” Stiles warns. “What can we do for you, Special Agent Argent? Gonna take us downtown again because I really don’t have time for that today. I got shit to do.”

“I’m sure you do, Stiles. And no, I’m not here to arrest you unless there’s something you want to share.”

“I’m not fucking you again so you can get that thought out of your head.” Stiles.

“Now how do you know that’s where my mind went?” Chris says sarcastically. “No, that’s not what I’m here for. I get the feeling you’ll be coming to me to try to make that deal really soon though. I believe the next few days are going to be interesting.” He flashes smirk at them. “Have a nice day, boys.”

They watch him leave.

“What the hell did that mean?” Stiles demands.

“Just forget him. Feds think they can come around here, do whatever they want.” Danny shakes his head. “What was he like in bed?”

Stiles laughs loudly.

“ _Aggressive_.” He says. “Very aggressive.”

Danny purses his lips. “Good aggressive or bad aggressive?”

“I’m not sure.” Stiles admits. “He reminded me of Derek, though. When we first met I mean.”

Danny looks distinctly alarmed.

“I know. I’m worried too.”

\-----

The first time Stiles meets Derek, he's 17 and on a date with some asshole he barely knows. His dad wants him to get out of the house (i.e. stop moping over Jordan) and get some fresh air. The guy's name is Gerome and he's from out of town, one of the other deputy's kids.

When they finally leave the restaurant, his date's eyes light up with excitement at the sight of what Stiles recognizes as Derek Hale's bike. It's a shiny black Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide with the Wolf Pack's graphic displayed for the world to see.

"Take a picture of me." Gerome barks as he leans up against the bike. He tosses Stiles his phone.

"Dude, no. Get off of that thing." Stiles groans. "You're gonna get our asses kicked."

"Don't be a bitch, Stiles. Just take the fucking picture." Gerome snaps.

"Yeah Stiles, take the fucking picture." Stiles almost drops the phone in his fright as he turns to face the bike's owner. Derek was still only the club's Vice President at the time, the badge on his vest marking him as such, his black helmet clutched in on hand. His eyes aren't on Stiles though, but on Gerome.

"I told him not to." Stiles says. "I'm really sorry-"

"It's alright. Can I see that?" Derek holds out his hand for the phone. Stiles hands it over, wonder coursing through him. He's heard of the man snapping over much less than this.

Derek snaps the photo, checks to make sure it's not blurry and then says, "that's your before shot."

"Before? Before what-" Derek slams his helmet into Gerome's face.

"Before that, asshole." He snaps another photo and then tosses the phone aside. "Never sit on another man's bike."

He turns to Stiles, eyes looking him up and down.

"You want a ride home?"

"Um my dad kinda wanted me out of the house." He says quietly.

Derek smirks. "That's okay. I know some pretty nice places to hang out. Better than this shithole anyway."

Stiles knows he should say no. Knows he should get the fuck out of there and never look back but...well, his dad wanted him to get over Jordan right?

"Sounds fun." He says. Derek hands him the helmet, still spattered with Gerome's blood and climbs on. Stiles takes a deep breath and swings his leg over the back, wraps his arms tight around Derek's waist.

"Hold on tight now," Derek chuckles, "wouldn't want to lose you." Stiles has never been on the back of a motorcycle before, never thought he would but this? When they're flying down the road, the cool wind biting against his cheeks?

He could get used to this.

 

Derek fucks him that night, rough and dirty in the back of the club. He’s a virgin and afraid but excited and Derek has more than enough experience to show him how things are supposed to work.

Stiles meets with him again and again and they get lost in each other. Soon, Stiles isn’t driving the jeep anywhere. Derek takes him wherever he needs to go. After three months, Derek takes him to pick out his own helmet.

Stiles rides him into the mattress that night.

On his eighteenth birthday, Derek says “I love you” and Stiles realizes that this isn’t a phase. This is his life. He’s gonna go to college and on the weekends he’s gonna go on rides with his boyfriend and maybe one day they’ll get married.

 

His dad hadn't taken that plan well at all.

"I just got a call from the station. Apparently you spent the day with Derek Hale yesterday." John levels his son with a stern look, his hands on his hips.

"Um yeah, we've hung out a couple times." Hung out. Made out. Fucked a little. A lot. They all meant the same thing right?

"And does Derek know that sleeping with the sheriff's underage son is a crime?"

"I think it would mean Derek's never touched me once but considering I’m eighteen now, that shouldn’t matter now should it?" Stiles snaps. "What's it matter anyway. You told me to go out and have some fun. That's what I did."

"'Have fun' didn't mean go climb into bed with a felon."

" _Alleged_."

"Oh come on! Stiles, you know better than that. You’re smarter than this! Much smarter. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what he is. What he’s done.” Stiles can see the vein throbbing in his forehead. “I won’t have it. Not in this house.”

Stiles stops short. “Wait, what does that mean? I either can’t see Derek or I can’t stay here?”

John looks more pained than Stiles has ever seen him. “I don’t to do that to us, Stiles but he’s a criminal. That’s something I can’t justify or excuse. I won’t have it.”

“Then I’ll leave!” Stiles shouts!

“And go where? You think Derek’s gonna let you live with him? He’s a grown man taking advantage of a teenager, Stiles. He doesn’t love you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes I do! Men like him don’t love anything but themselves. Stay with him long enough you’ll end up getting seriously hurt or worse. I’ve seen it happen time and time again.”

“Derek wouldn’t hurt me. He’s not what you think. He’s good, dad. More than good.”

“Jesus Stiles, do you know what you sound like? Like these men in women who get wrapped up in the mob or in gangs and then end up surprised when everything goes to shit around them. You stick with him and you’ll be damning yourself. You could have a future. A bright one.”

“I love him and he loves me.”

John shakes his head like he’s trying to will this situation away. “No, Stiles. I won’t have it. Not in this house. Not in your mother’s house.”

“Well then I guess I better start packing then.” Stiles whispers and the stricken look on his father’s face is enough to tell him that that wasn’t the answer he expected.

“Stiles-”

“Bye, dad.”

Stiles is gone by the next morning.

\-----

Stiles misses his dad sometimes, wishes they were still on speaking terms but he made his choice. He has to live with it.

He has plans to meet Derek for dinner. It’s a classy place (for Beacon Hills at least) and Derek insists he wear something nice. Stiles tries not to cross his fingers. He loads himself into his jeep and heads for the restaurant, anticipation bubbling in his belly. His dad was wrong. This is what his life is supposed to be.

He’s stopped at a red light, drumming his long fingers on the steering wheel when a loud crack sounds through the air. He hears the glass shatter before a mind blowing pain rockets through his shoulder. It’s then that his mind finally registers the sound from before. A gunshot. Jesus Christ he’s been shot-

There’s another crack and more glass rains down over his head-

He doesn’t hear anything after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love.
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

The world comes back to him like a roar, pours over him and and drowns him in agony. His jeep's alarm is going off, blaring in his ears. Stiles keeps his head down, closes his eyes. ‘ _Play dead_ ,’ he thinks to himself. ‘ _Play dead and maybe he won’t shoot you again_.’ He can’t feel his left shoulder, the adrenaline running through his veins acting to numb the pain. He hears the car peel off, the tires squealing.

Seconds later, his jeep is illuminated by vibrant red and blue lights and sirens ring loudly all around him.

“Stiles! Shit, are you okay?” He can barely hear Parrish over the the noise, over the throbbing in his own head.

“There’s a fucking hole in my shoulder, Jordan! What do you think?!” He groans snappishly and why is there blood trickling out of his mouth? He only got hit in the shoulder. Suddenly, the paramedics are there, cutting him out of his seat belt and pulling him out of the car.

“He’s losing blood-”

“Needs immediate transport to the nearest hospital-”

“Two gunshot wounds, one to the shoulder, one to the upper back-”

His back? Stiles wasn’t shot in the back. He would’ve felt that, right? He’s being lifted up and rolled away when he hears the rumbling of and engine.

“Stiles! What the fuck happened?! Let me through, asshole-” That’s Derek’s voice. The lights are too bright for him to see anything.

“Derek-” Stiles croaks, “wait-”

The paramedics ignore his protests. “You need a hospital, Stiles. You’ve been _shot_. We need to get you to a doctor as soon as possible.”

“Take me back, I need Derek-”

“I’m sure he’ll meet you at the hospital-”

"I need him-"

They load him into the ambulance and an oxygen mask is pressed to his face.

"Please Mr. Stilinski, we need you to calm down. You've been shot twice. We need you to calm down!"

Stiles tries to fight it but the adrenaline is wearing off and the pain's setting in. Everything hurts. It feels like he’s been ripped in two.

"Let's get you to a hospital."

\---

"Why are we meeting tonight? " Jackson yawns.

"Because Stiles got shot, asshole." Boyd snaps.

“Shouldn’t you be headed to the hospital, Derek? I know he’s in surgery but Stiles would want you to be there when he wakes up.” Scott pulls his chair out and takes a seat. The others trickle in all sleepy and shaken. Derek didn't even have to call the meeting himself. Scott shot him a text that they were all on their way.

"No. I know what Stiles would want. He's gonna want me to catch the son of a bitch who shot him and put him in the ground. That's what I intend to do." Derek looks to each one of them, a tingle running down the back of his neck.

\---

_"The bugs were planted. Agent Argent has been planning to turn you against one another, hoping to stir up enough dirt to bring the club down. I don't think he ever wanted anyone to get seriously hurt. " Parrish says in a rush. The front of his uniform is soaked with blood-Stiles' blood._

_"So what, you're saying that Argent planted bugs in Stiles' jeep and his phone and then waited with with his thumb up his ass for someone to get shot?! That's not how the FBI does things, Jordan. He could've been killed! This is someone’s life we’re talking about!" Derek wants to strangle the deputy for not telling them sooner, for not warning them before Stiles was hurt._

_The little, black, velvet box weighs heavily in his pocket. In truth, he should've proposed to Stiles a long time ago. They were practically married anyway so it wasn't that much of a step but the thought of being separated from his boy again was too much to bear. He’d do anything if it meant keeping that smile on Stiles’ face._

_Now instead, he's in a hospital bed because of some shit Derek dragged him into and one of his guys, the men he considered to be his brothers probably put him there._

_"I don't know who shot Stiles, Derek but I'm sure it was one of your guys. They did this to protect the club and if they still think he's a threat, they could try it again. I'll keep him under protective detail but you need to handle this in the way only you can. Find him. Put him down."_

\---

That's exactly what Derek planned to do.

"Who're we thinking did this? Deucalion?" Isaac lights himself a cigarette.

"I don't think so. I called this meeting because I believe someone here acted rashly and without my say so. Someone in this room but a bullet in Stiles' back and I’m giving you the chance to step up."

"What the fuck? Why would one of us shoot Stiles? Nobody wants to get their skulls bashed in, Derek." Jackson says with a yawn. "Everyone knows better."

"Someone found a bug in his car and jumped to conclusions." Derek adds while he watches their faces.

"A bug? Wait, you mean Stilinski was cooperating with FBI? What the hell?!"

"No way. Stiles wouldn't sell us out like that. He definitely wouldn't sell _you_ out, Derek." Scott's shaking his head. He knows Stiles would never pull anything like this. Guy's not a rat.

"But the FBI wanted someone in here to believe he that he was. They planted the bugs in his jeep and in his phone. Apparently, their little plan worked too well because they didn't expect us to start shooting at our own! So own the fuck up. Who shot him?!" Derek bellows, his voice echoing around the small room.

Jackson's shaking his head and Scott just looks angry. Aiden looks pissed but ever since his brother went away, that's how he's always looked. Issac just looks lost and confused, like he's shocked that one of the people he calls family could do this. Boyd keeps his arms crossed, keeps his eyes on Derek's face.

"Then we'll stay here 'til someone confesses." He says quietly. "Or who knows, when Stiles wakes up, maybe he'll be able to finger whoever shot him." Derek nods at that.

"Bullshit!" Aiden shouts as he gets to his feet. "You know he was talking to that fed. Probably told him all about us the night he fucked him. He screwed around on you with a fed, Derek after he'd kicked you out of your own fucking house!"

"Aiden you didn't-"

“What the fuck, Aiden-”

"I had to! Who else was gonna protect us? Ethan's in fucking prison! We got the FBI breathing down our necks and our president refuses to check his own _bitch_."

Derek's reaching for his gun and taking aim at Aiden’s head before he even knows what's happening.

"Wait a minute, hold on guys. There's no need for this! Aiden, sit the fuck down! Derek, put the gun away!" Scott jumps between them, puts a hand on Derek's chest.

Derek’s not hearing it, rage bubbling in his skin. "You tried to kill him. You tried to kill Stiles. We brought you into this life, gave you and your loser brother a home and this is how you repay us!?"

"No Derek! No!"

“Screw you, Derek! I should've walked up to the window. Should’ve shot him right in his smug little face-"

The gunshot is nearly deafening in such close quarters. Aiden's blood spatters against the back wall as his body slumps over onto the floor.

"Holy shit. Holy shit." Scott tugs at his hair, red droplets decorating his cheeks. "Derek what the fuck?!"

"He almost killed Stiles. He's been trying to undermine me since he and his brother showed up. It was time. I can’t deal with another Peter. We don’t turn on our own." Derek wipes his face, red streaks painting the back of his hand. "Clean this shit up. I need to go to the hospital."

"But Derek-"

"Take him to Deaton. He'll handle the body. Aiden ran off with his girl. That’s our story, stick to it." Derek tucks his gun back into his pants.

"Derek slow down.  You just shot Aiden." Scott looks like he’s in shock, like can't believe what just happened.

"He tried to kill Stiles. Dude had it coming. " Boyd sighs. "I'll make sure things get done here. You go take care of your boy."

Derek nods. "Thanks."

"Take good care of him okay." Scott says firmly. Isaac’s already wiping up the blood as Jackson and Boyd drag Aiden’s body out of the room.

"I will."

\---

Stiles wakes slowly to the hum of machines. The lights are dimmed around him, the curtains drawn on his window. He knows instantly that he's not alone, feels his guest's eyes on him.

“So this is what it takes for you to come see me? Huh, remind me to get shot more often.” He rasps sleepily. "Where's Derek?"

“Hopefully doing something useful and figuring out who did this to you before I do.” John Stilinski sets down his book and faces his son for the first time in years.

“I thought you didn’t approve of working outside the law.” Stiles lets out a jaw popping yawn.

“I don’t but I’m allowed to be irrational when my only son is hurt.” John helps him raise the bed. "Don't strain yourself."

"What are you doing here, dad? I don't need the disdainful judgy looks." Stiles sighs drowsily. His dad looks older than he remembers. He’s graying at the temples and there are more lines around his eyes.

"Stiles-"

"No seriously, I don't need that. I need my phone. I need to call Derek."

"Please, Stiles. Calm down. I’m not here to jump down your throat, I’m here to make sure you’re okay. You were nearly killed. I have right to the concerned."

"Do you? Because I seem to remember you giving up that right when you said I’d have to go.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually leave, Stiles.”

“What the fuck did you expect to happen?!” Stiles shouts and then immediately regrets it. His throat is killing him. "You told me to either leave him or to go so I left. I love him. I'm always going to love him."

John looks like he wants to protest but thinks better of it. "You're an adult. I can't control your decisions. If you say you love him, I'm going to trust that you do. I'm sorry for treating you otherwise."

"Is this why you came? To alleviate your guilt? " Stiles doesn't know why he's so angry but it's all spilling out of him like a flood. "You pushed me away, ignored me. Wouldn't talk to me unless it was in an interrogation about the club. How do you think that made me feel?"

"There was more to it than that, Stiles. You knowingly falsified a police report. You gave Derek a false alibi. You broke the law. I didn't want to have to be the one to cart you off in handcuffs. You're my son, Stiles. I couldn't bear to watch him destroy you." John rubs rubs his eyes tiredly. "I was pissed enough when Peter got Scott mixed up in all that mess and then they took you too?"

"Well Peter’s not exactly a problem anymore now is he?" Stiles scoffs. "They gave Scott what he needed. A family."

"And is that what you needed? I thought we already had one of those." John says wistfully.

"I needed someone to be there for me. He was there." Stiles tries to shrug and bites back a scream.

His dad looks concerned but says nothing, just sighs and goes back to his reading.

Stiles just misses Derek more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I've started posting headcannons for this verse on my blog. Stop by and take a look or drop a few of your own. Smooches!


	7. Chapter 7

Chris sidles into his truck with plans to make his way to the hospital when he feels the cold press of the barrel of a gun to the back of his neck. He chances a glance at the rear view mirror and a sense of dread fills him when he sees Derek Hale's sharp hazel eyes staring him down. This can’t end well.

“I think it’s time that you and I take a drive, Chris. Don’t you?" Derek growls and it's the first time that either of them have ever spoken directly to each other. Chris has no doubt that there's murder on Derek’s mind. He heard what happened to Stiles and within minutes, he knew what the true cause was. He had to find a way to somehow placate Derek.

"Listen, if you do this, Hale and you'll go down for life and you'll never be able to see him again. My team will make damn sure of it. If you kill me, you’ll never see the outside of a cell." Chris hisses. He clenches the steering wheel tight, his knuckles going white and his fingernails digging into the leather padding. He almost shudders when he hears the gun cock.

"You know, I had the pleasure of meeting Allison today, Chris." At that,Chris stops short, his breath feeling almost caught in his throat. Derek goes on. "She's _really_ pretty. Nice dimples. And believe it or not, she’s smart too. How many people were accepted into her Master's program again? Just five?" He clicks his tongue. "I gotta say, that's impressive. You must be so fucking proud."

"You stay away from her!” Chris blurts out. His blood is boiling under his skin. “I swear, if you so much as touch my daughter-"

"You'll what, Chris? _Arrest me_?" Derek chuckles.  "Can't do that if your brain's spattered all over your windshield now can you?"

"What do you want,  Derek? Huh? What are you gaining here by killing me? A federal warrant for your arrest because it would seem that’s the last thing you need with everything going on." For a moment, Chris thinks about slamming down on the brakes suddenly to rattle his attacker but from out of the corner his eye, he can make out the the unmistakable glint of a chrome engine. He checks the other side of the truck and sees another motorcycle flanking him. He's been surrounded in the dark. They’re not going to let him leave.

"You see Chris, I take my family _very_ seriously and when one of them is hurt, I tend not to react well. Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard but Stiles is in the hospital and, strangely enough, I've been lead to believe that you're the reason he's there. Care to explain?" Derek presses the gun harder into the back of his neck.

"I didn't shoot him, Derek. I wouldn’t. I never intended for anyone to get hurt."

"Oh I know you weren't the one who pulled the trigger but you might as well have. Tell me, when did you bug his car, Chris? When you were done fucking him? When you spent the night in _my_ house? Did you laugh at him afterwards?" Derek's voice is deadly calm and Chris fights the urge to close his eyes.

“Well then, I think that makes this _your_ fault doesn’t it." Chris jibes. "Stiles didn't invite me back to his place for no reason. He _wanted_ to piss you off and by the looks of it, he succeeded."

He can feel Derek’s anger surge. "Stop the car." Derek barks.

And Chris knows he can’t do that. If he stops, Derek will kill him. “Stop the car Chris or I will and your little baby girl will have to scrape you out of that seat.”

He has no choice. He pulls over to a shoulder in the road and turns off the engine. Why did he take this case? No one else wanted it and now he could see why. There was no saving a town that didn’t want to be saved. “Now get out.”

Chris takes a deep breath and opens his door. Almost immediately, he feels at least two three sets of hands dragging him out of his seat and tossing him into the dirt. They all have shotguns, except for Derek. Together, they force him to his knees.

“Were you scared, _Agent_? Scared I was going to kill you while you were just driving home, going about your business as usual? It’s an ungodly terror isn’t it?” Derek slams the butt of his gun down into Chris’ face and the sound of bone crunching is more satisfying than it should be. “When you first came here, I gave you the option to walk away, Chris but you stayed. You stayed and you thought you could turn my town upside down without my say so. You got someone I love _shot_. It’s only fair that I return the favor, don’t you think?”

“You won’t touch her. You won’t.” Chris wipes his bloody nose with the back of his hand and spits into the dirt.

“Won’t have to. I’ve got someone waiting outside her apartment. All I have to do is send a text and then she gets blown off the face of the earth.” Derek cocks his gun. “So you’re gonna agree right now to get the _hell_ out of my town. You’re not gonna come back. You don’t agree and I’ll make a little phone call so the last thing you ever hear will be your little girl begging for her life.”

“Allison won’t beg.” Chris snaps. Allison was strong and smart and full of pride. She’d never beg a thug like Derek Hale to let her live. Maybe she’d even be okay. He’d taken her to buy a gun but would she be able to get to it in time? How many men had Derek sent?

“Make your choice, Chris. This is all on you. Are you gonna stay or are you gonna go.” He has no doubt that Derek will shoot him.

“You haven’t really given me a choice, have you?” Chris finally sighs.

Derek smirks at him, his teeth and eerie white in the moonlight. Almost _wolfish_. “You _always_ have a choice, Chris.”

Chris wonders again if it was worth it.

 

\----

 

Stiles looks up when he hears someone entering his hospital room. “Derek! Where the hell have you been? Haven’t you figured out that someone out there is shooting at us!” Stiles tries to get up out of the bed but Derek gently pushes him back down.

“Problem’s taken care of.” Derek wipes a stray lock of hair out of his face. “Argent’s gone and the guy who shot you’s been taken care of.”

Stiles bites his lip and sizes Derek up. The man looks tired and frazzled. “You’ve been busy haven't you?”

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to come in here with nothing to show for it.” Derek takes the Sheriff’s old seat and tries to relax. “Are you okay? Feeling any better?”

Stiles nods. “They’ve got me on the good stuff so I’m kind of on cloud nine right now. Danny brought me my laptop but it’s actually kind of hard to type with one hand. He’s gonna help me do the books for the club this month.”

Derek’s already shaking his head. “No, you’re gonna rest. Boyd already said he’d handle all that. I’m gonna take you home soon and you’re going to get all of the rest and relaxation you could ever need.”

“Der…” Stiles sighs deeply. “I think...God. I don’t know how to says this but…”

“You’re upset with me. I let this happen. It was my fault.” Derek rubs his face anxiously, all his nerves from the night crashing down on him at once.

“Not your fault.” Stiles quips. “You didn’t point the gun.”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t screwed around, you never would’ve invited him in.”

“Him? Who?”

“Argent. He bugged your car and your phone to make you look like a rat.” Derek tells him. “Aiden thought you’d turned on us.”

Stiles looks fighting mad, like he’s ready to climb out of the bed and rip someone apart. “Aiden? Aiden’s the one who shot me?! Goddamn! When I get my hands on him-”

Derek shushes him again. “I told you. Already handled.”

“I’m not gonna just burn his tattoo off, Derek-”

Derek pushes him back down. “Stiles, He’s _dead_.”

Stiles freezes his eyes locking on Derek’s tired face. “Dead? You-”

“Yeah. He could've killed you. I couldn’t let that stand. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And Derek seems so honest but Stiles can’t resist poking that bear a little longer.

“You’d probably have to find someone else to fuck. Wouldn’t be that hard. I’m sure there are people lining up to sit on your cock.” He snorts. It obviously isn’t a crushing blow because Derek barely flinches.

“I deserve that.” He says quietly.

“Oh do you? Really?” Stiles snorts.

“Stiles I thought I had your permission. All the guys do if I would’ve known it really pissed you off, I wouldn't have done it.” Stiles wants to protest but Derek isn’t lying. He’s never lied about any of it. Kira and Scott had a similar arrangement until she got pregnant and they finally got married. It was no secret that Lydia and Jackson both had numerous flings on the side but always came back to each other and hell, Stiles _had_ given his permission. What happened on a run stayed on a run and as long as it wasn’t in his face, he could pretend he didn’t care.

“I just don’t understand why you _need_ anyone else.” He pouts. “I don’t keep you happy?”

“Of course you do, Stiles. That’s not what it was about. If another chapter offers a night with a $5000 hooker for free, I kinda wanna see what it’s about. We all did. I thought it was okay at the time. How was I supposed to know he was gonna show up two weeks later and get you in jail with an assault charge?”

Stiles actually scoffs. “There’s not way that Dubar kid was worth $5000 bucks. If he was, I should quit my job and be a hooker.”

“You’d be surprised.” Derek sighs. “I’m not sure his business is as booming now as it was before considering _someone_ broke his nose.”

Stiles doesn’t look the least bit remorseful. “He had no business here.”

“Yeah well, I’m pretty sure he put the word out to every hooker on the west coast because Satomi already called and said none of her girls want to see me when we head down there to make a sale.”

Stiles smirks. “Good. That’s something I shouldn’t have to worry about, then.”

“Will you take your helmet back?” Derek tries (and fails) to keep the want out of his voice.

“You know that if I ever catch you again, I’ll castrate you?” Stiles counters.

“I think you’ve made that pretty clear.”

“Well okay then.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


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